To Tie a Hangman's Noose
by TheLastWatanagashi
Summary: A normal afternoon, a walk through a park, and an unusual encounter. A man in a kimono, a tall sakura tree, and an instrument of death. A connection was made, and for one fleeting moment, I belive we understood eachother. Nozomu ItoshikiXOC


Disclaimer: I do not own Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, nor the character Nozomu Itoshiki.

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"That's all wrong, you know."

The man paused in his endeavor and looked over his shoulder. Good features, I though. The glasses and outdated clothing are nice touch. The kimono he wore wasn't glamorous or showy, and it had a plain, simple pattern. The fact that he didn't embellish the strangeness of his attire probably meant that he didn't wear the clothes for the purpose of standing out; rather, it was a symbolic rejection of modern society and superficial values.

But then, I could be misinterpreting that. I had a tendency to over -analyze situations.

"What you're doing, it won't work." I continued. I pointed at the sloppy knot in the man's hand.

He glared half-heartedly and resumed his task, and I realized that he was younger than what I had gauged him at first. "Don't interrupt." he told me.

Not to be deterred, I gently took the rope from his hands. "You see," I began, and re-knotted it correctly. "This is how to tie a proper hangman's noose."

He blinked. With some difficulty, I undid the knot and showed him more slowly, step-by-step.

I handed the noose back to him. "Do you see?" I asked. "The way you had it, it would have immediately come undone. It would have been excruciatingly embarrassing, had that happened."

The man nodded. "Thank you." he said. I stepped back and watched him climb unto a stool.

I cleared my throat. "Hey, have you gone to the bathroom recently?" I questioned. The man looked somewhat horrified. "Because, you know, the last thing you do before you die is have a bowl movement."

He steeped down from the stool. "This… this isn't some weird stalling tactic?" His left eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

I myself wasn't sure of my objective, truth be told. Had it been anyone else about to commit suicide, I may have even encouraged them. Perhaps it would have reduced Japan's carbon footprint. Maybe they would have gone on to kill an honest, contributing member of society. If I suspected such atrocious, abominable behavior, I may even have pushed them myself. But if this man, who was likely little more than a boy, committed the act of taking his own life… I doubt that I would be able to bear it.

I wonder, would my grief be so great for the loss of this stranger that I myself would partake in suicide?

"I'm not plotting anything," I assured him. "I'm asking this out of concern for the person who will cut you down."

A thoroughly unpleasant affair, corpse retrieval, and one made infinitely worse from the stench.

He look slightly irritated and disgruntled. "That's none of your concern! I'll have you know that my bladder is quite empty!"

"Excellent. Carry on." Casually, I turned around.

He adjusted the stool's positioning and stepped unto it. From the shadow the sun cast on the cruel scene, I saw him grasp the noose and fit his head into it.

The hangman's noose, I saw it in the silhouette. The one that I had tied. Like it was my very own hands, ready to strangle him, cleanly snap his neck, and destroy his mind from asphyxiation. Then, the end. No more breath, no more blinking--and nothing but the earthly shell remains.

"Actually, hangings are generally very painful." I said to the empty air in front of me. "Were I ending my life, I'd use drugs. Or perhaps carbon monoxide poisoning, which I've heard is relatively painless."

"It's not up to you!" he yelled exasperatedly. "It's always other people who decide everything! How we live, we are unable to decide. But how I die is a choice I'm making myself!"

"Listen! There's a very popular way of killing oneself nowadays," I rambled "It involves getting a group of friends together, in a car…"

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "I don't have… many friends." He said quietly. "And finding friends who want to die with you is even more difficult."

I nodded. "I sympathize with you."

For a minute, neither of us said a word.

"It doesn't… feel right." He finally said. "Today is wrong for this."

"That's true." I agreed.

"But tomorrow! Any other time… I'll finish it."

"I don't doubt that."

"But not today."

"No." I said. "But now that you know how to tie a proper hangman's noose…"

"Right! Exactly.

"So…" I trailed off.

It wasn't necessary to reestablish the fact, at this point, but my body was flooding with pathetic relief. For one entire day, he would continue to live. For a blessed 24 hours or less, this man would continue to walk the earth. Maybe in that short succession of time, he would find it; a purpose, a reason for living, or at least a reason to not take his own life. Chances were slim, the odds were against it. It was stupidly optimistic and uncharacteristic of me to think in such a way. But…

There is always hope. Idiotic, simple, unrealistic hope.

I took the hand on my shoulder into my own and turned toward him. Without looking at each other, we stood that way in silence.

When he removed his hand from mine, I felt an intense, stabbing emptiness.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

And then we went our separate ways.

On my way home, I noted that it had began to rain. The drops of water, undoubtedly corrupted by the sea of pollution above the city, felt comforting against my skin. I was in possession of an umbrella, but I didn't care to open it or to hide myself beneath it.

That man. I never learned his name, but it didn't matter. At some point, tomorrow, some other time, he would be gone and our meeting would mean nothing. The dead don't remember faces, and cadavers don't speak. No one but ourselves knew of our fleeting encounter, and why should they care to? The only proof of our connection would exist in my memory and his, and not for very much longer. Inside my head, such thoughts escalated into a power despairing torrent, drowning me and drawing me toward the blackest depths of unhappiness.

One thought, however, kept me grounded.

Right now, at this moment, he _lived._


End file.
